


to make you better

by battyboy



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assassins & Hitmen, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Father-Daughter Relationship, Floyd is Trying(TM) Okay, Harley Deserves Better and Finally Gets It, Like a Pedo Gets Merc'd and It's Glorious, POV Floyd Lawton, Past Joker/Harleen Quinzel, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Slow Romance, Some Mild Murder, Wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 10:28:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15532260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battyboy/pseuds/battyboy
Summary: "I want you, thin fingersI wanted you, thin fingernailsAnd when you bend backwardsI wanted you, I needed youOh-oh, to make me better."In other words:"Floyd was glad about two things.One made him feel kind of shitty, the other made him feel sort of...guilty-happy. The first thing he was glad about was that Joker’s kidnapped doctor had shut off the bombs in his squad’s necks before the old ka-boom. He felt kinda shitty about it because that guy had a family. The second thing he was glad about was that the Joker had gone ka-boom with the doc. He was happy because now Harley was his. He was guilty because...because... she was in mourning...but...nah, just fucking kidding. It sucked to see his girl sad, but the motherfucker who hurt her and twisted her was dead, so...yeah.Mostly happy."





	to make you better

**Author's Note:**

> Harley deserves the world and just this once I got to give it to her. Floyd doesn't know what he wants or needs, but she's just about that! I've been writing this for like six months but here ya go. First fic I've spit out in a while between work and school and my Rocky Horror cast! 
> 
> -Johnny boy

Floyd was glad about two things. 

 

One made him feel kind of shitty, the other made him feel sort of...guilty-happy. The first thing he was glad about was that Joker’s kidnapped doctor had shut off the bombs in his squad’s necks before the old ka-boom. He felt kinda shitty about it because that guy had a family. The second thing he was glad about was that the Joker had gone ka-boom with the doc. He was happy because now Harley was his. He was guilty because...because... she was in mourning...but...nah, just fucking kidding. It sucked to see his girl sad, but the motherfucker who hurt her and twisted her was dead, so...yeah. 

 

Mostly happy. 

 

Harley, not so much. For the first month after the Joker died, his girl was catatonic. She froze up, stopped functioning. Harley wouldn’t eat or drink, talk, she’d hardly even breathe. The squad didn’t know what to do with the girl, so he’d brought her home after they’d overpowered Waller and escaped. That night had been a doozy. 

 

He had to say, though, seeing the fat bitch driving her finger into that phone’s screen and then screaming with anger had been a laugh. She  _ actually fucking thought _ she could keep him away from Zoe. Thought she could keep zapping Harley ‘till her brain leaked out her ears. Thought she could lock Croc, uh, Waylon away in a shit-stained sewer like some kind of animal, keep Chato in a tiny metal tube like a dog...it was monstrous. And Flag’s girl, that skittish and PTSD-ridden little witch (she really was alright when she wasn’t trying to kill the world)...the things they’d done to her were unspeakable.   

 

_ And they call _ us _ the bad guys. _

 

So after they’d ditched the fatty, the squad had scattered. He’d sprinted through the streets of Gotham with the crazy broad slung over his shoulder. She was sobbing so hard up there she was choking herself, but he hadn’t focused on that. In fact, after he’d gotten to one of the many apartments he used as safe houses, he’d tucked her in bed and left her alone for like two days. 

 

Tough love?

 

But after those two days Floyd took care of her. He did. He made her take birdy sips of water, shoved mashed potatoes and yogurt into her mouth, even wiped down her face of tears and snot. By the end of her catatonic month, she’d started smelling pretty ripe. He had a feeling she wasn’t going to bathe. 

 

“Harley, sweetheart,” he said, kind of pushing her greasy hair back from her forehead. “You-you gotta shower.”

 

She acknowledged what he said, then, for the first time in weeks: she turned away from him. Facing the wall, she shook.

 

“Hey, dollface, c’mon. Don’t...don’t be like that.” Floyd was a stone cold killer, sure, but talking to a grieving nutso? Not so easy. “Look, Harley, if you don’t go take a shower or something, I’ll have to bathe you myself,” he joked. And she looked at him, her big blue eyes wide, watery, and empty. That shit was  _ devoid _ of emotion. Floyd steeled himself. “Okay, I’m gonna be the one bathing you, then.” He picked her up from the messy white sheets of his spare room, picked her up like a bride.  _ And isn’t that what she wants? To be carried over some threshold? But not by you, clown. By a different one.  _ He walked through the well-lit hall into the big, fancy bathroom. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence he’d brought her to this specific safe house, a nice penthouse in the sky.  

 

He sat her down on the toilet and brushed her hair back. She was still wearing that tiny little shirt, those itty bitty shorts, those fishnets. His girl looked like a hooker. He couldn’t have that. A lady had the right to dress however she wanted, sure, but she didn’t choose that -- Joker had twisted her into that Lolita nightmare. “Sweetheart, I gotta...I gotta undress you if you ain’t gonna bathe yourself.” She just kind of sat there like a little zombie. “I’m gonna do it now.” With trembling fingers, he slid that awful shirt, the one declaring her “Daddy’s little monster” up her alabaster body. 

 

His self-control was...immense.

 

Floyd had gotten the shirt up over Harley’s head, battling to get her arms out of the sleeves. And...his jeans were suddenly uncomfortably tight. Jesus. She was wearing a teeny little bra, practically, uh, spilling out of it. He decided to get the bottoms and fishnets off her. Maybe that would clear his head. Of course, having his hands so near her crotch probably wasn’t the best idea in terms of head clearing, he mused as he pulled that glorified bikini bottom off of her. “Uh...sorry about this, dollface.” No response. She was wearing some kinda lacy little scrap of underwear and he was pretty sure he was gonna explode. Floyd hooked his fingers into her fishnets and slowly pulled them, plus the underwear, down her legs...those miles and miles of legs. And he just yanked the bra off of her in a fury, blushing wildly and not making eye contact. “So...uh...you’re naked.”  He averted his eyes as much as he could. “You wanna get in the bath now?” She didn’t move, just like he expected.

 

And what could Floyd do? He couldn’t just have her naked and dirty. He couldn’t...she didn’t deserve that. He got up from his knees and lifted her, bridal style, into the bath he’d run for her. It was warm. Her baby blues drifted closed. “It’s okay, Harl,” he said softly. “You’re okay now.” 

He cupped his hands under the water and gently released them over her head. A couple dozen of those and her hair was almost clean. Floyd worked the shampoo through her hair, even conditioned it. The bathwater was gray then as the dirt sluiced off her body, out of her hair. She breathed a little easier. 

 

Floyd drew her from the bath, towelled her off. He held her close then, just because he could. “Dollface, I’ve got some clothes for you. Clean clothes. Gonna take you back to your room now. I, uh, I changed the sheets for you.” He picked her up and took her back to the room, clothed the batty babe in sweatpants and a T-shirt. 

 

Then for the first time in weeks, she smiled.

XXX

They got into a sort of a routine after that. He would go to work and she would sleep away the day, do a little cleaning if she felt up to it. Sometimes he came home and dinner was made. It was kind of like having a little housewife. It was sort of...nice. She never talked, though. Until...until she did.

 

He got a call from Zoe, on the secret cell phone he’d bought her for emergencies. It rang when they were watching some stupid romantic comedy that seemed to be amusing Harley. “Zoe,” he barked into the phone on the first ring. “Zoe, you okay? What’s going on?”

 

“Daddy, I’m calling because we need to talk,” she said in a reasonable, placating tone. “I know you told me never to call you unless it’s a  _ dire _ emergency. I know, so don’t shout at me, okay?” It was clear she had worked out what she was going to say before the call. “It’s not urgent or anything...it’s just...Mama’s been out with Darnell for a couple days of now and, well, we don’t really have much food in the house. I’m trying to make do, but...” She stopped talking and sniffled, the tone of the little scholar gone. “I was just wondering if maybe you could come visit.”  

 

Floyd sighed deeply and swallowed down some choice words. He thought he’d worked it out with that bitch. Her no-good boyfriend wasn’t supposed to keep her from taking care of her fucking kid. He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Yeah, baby, I can...I can come visit you. I’ll bring you some groceries or something.”

 

Her pitiful voice twisted his heart around as she said, “Daddy, I know I’m asking a lot and it’s okay if you say no, but do you think that maybe I could come, um, stay with you...for a little...” She trailed off into silence. His heart twisted even more.

 

“Sweetheart, I want...you  _ know  _ I -- um, hold on.” Harley was tugging his sleeve like a little kid, his eyes big and earnest. “Uh, what’s up, dollface?” 

 

“That your daughter?” she asked softly. Her voice was tiny and raspy from disuse, so it sounded more like, “Zatcha dotta?”   

 

“Oh, yeah. It’s Zoe. Listen, Harl, I’m real glad you’re talkin’, but I gotta talk to my girl. One sec -- oh, no, baby, that’s a friend of mine. No, not my girlfriend, Yes, she is nice. I’m sure she’d like to meet you too, Zo, but-- baby, I...” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t think the two of you are gonna meet, though. Nothin’ personal. Because...she...Darnell said WHAT?! Okay, fuck. I’m gonna come on down there and I’m gonna pick you up. This ain’t permanent, okay? Just for a little bit until I get your mom to-- Yeah, okay. You pack up what you want. I’ll be down in twenty, baby. Yeah, sure, I love you too.” He hung up the phone and resisted the urge to throw in across the room. 

 

Harley tugged on his sleeve again, and when he turned to the clownish maniac, she leapt on him. Floyd thought for sure she was trying to strangle the breath outta him before he realized the little loony was hugging him. He hugged her back, a little hesitant. “Yeah, okay. Uh, Harl...I’m gonna bring my girl here. I’m gonna step out for a bit to go get her, okay? Just...just stay here.”

 

And so he walked out of the apartment, took the subway for fifteen minutes, and then walked a couple blocks. As he neared his ex-wife’s apartment, Floyd was uncomfortably aware of how the sidewalks here were cracked and broken, how the buildings were crumbling masses of graffiti and charred bricks. The sky felt heavier in this part of Gotham. Smoggy. Uncomfortable. Floyd took a deep breath of unpleasant-tasting air as he arrived at the building his daughter lived in. It was a large building, crumbling like all the others. Graffiti adorned the walls. Floyd dialed Zoe’s emergency phone. “Hey, baby, I’m outside. Hustle, okay? Can’t be seen in this neighborhood for too long.”  

 

Exactly two minutes later, his gangly daughter shot out of the dilapidated building and into his arms. “Daddy!” she squealed. “Oh my gosh, Daddy, I’m so glad you’re here.” A small backpack that he assumed contained her things slapped against her back.  _ She shouldn’t have so few things. _

 

“Yeah, baby,” Floyd murmured into her hair. “It’s good to see you too.” He hugged her hard for a minute before pulling away and holding her at arm’s length. “Let me get a look at you, Zo.” Her hair was pulled back in a puffy ponytail, and she was wearing a pink dress that was a little too small for her. The brisk autumn wind blew the dress up a little bit, almost indecent. Floyd’s vision went a little red. Zoe’s body was changing; she was in the sixth grade, almost twelve years old. It wasn’t right to have her in clothes fit for a nine-year-old. All it took was one gust of wind for some perv to get the wrong idea...no. No, he couldn’t think about that. “Alright, let’s get going.”

 

Zoe held his hand tightly and babbled the entire way back. She talked about school, how exciting it was to learn about the ancient peoples of the world. She talked about how her mom had said she could maybe get a kitten for her twelfth birthday. She talked the most about how happy she was to see her daddy. 

 

When they got to Floyd’s little hideaway apartment, Zoe gasped. “This is so much better than Mama’s house,” she said. “There’s no graffiti!” 

 

“Right,” Floyd said uneasily. He shuffled her into the building and up a few flights of stairs and down a hall. When they stood in front of his apartment, he sighed deeply. “Okay, Zo, this, uh, this friend in here...she’s somebody who...she’s dangerous. She’s not a bad person, understand, she’s just dangerous. And she’s just been through a loss that we can’t even think about. So, uh, just...you’ll see.” He unlocked the door, herded Zoe inside, and called, “Harley!”

 

The surprise of his life came bounding around the corner. Harley was in a pair of his sweatpants and that tiny T-shirt announcing her “Daddy’s little monster.” Way too much of his girl’s --  _ she’s not your girl, stop it! _ \-- stomach was showing and her feet were bare. “Hiya, Zoe!” she squealed, grabbing the girl’s hand and pumping it up and down enthusiastically. “Harley Quinn, good to meetcha. Your daddy’s told me a lot about you.”

 

Floyd looked at the batty babe in confusion.

 

“He talked a lot about you when he was takin’ care of me, you know? I’ve been laid up for a while, but I’m pretty okay now. Your daddy’s been takin’ care of me and he sure does love to talk.” She pulled Zoe into a hug and then quickly let her go. “Kiddo, I’ve got a question.”

 

Zoe was smiling so hard Floyd thought her little face would fall off. It’d been a long time since a lady was so maternal and welcoming to his daughter, he could see. It made him happy, sad, confused. Her mom wasn’t acting like a fucking mom. Bitch.

 

“What’s your question, ma’am?” 

 

“Ma’am! Ya hear that, Floyd? Kid’s got manners.” Harley laughed. It sounded like bells. His heart twisted a little bit more. “Sweetheart, your daddy did a lot of ranting when he thought I wasn’t listening. Said your mom didn’t take care of you like she should. Is that true?”

 

Zoe shrugged tightly. “I’m not really supposed to talk about it. It’s not that bad.” She looked to Floyd. He raised his eyebrows, disbelieving. “I know I made it sound really bad this morning. I just got scared. Mama keeps going out all night and it makes me nervous. And Darnell, he...” She swallowed thickly. “I just don’t like being alone with him. He says things, sometimes...he looks at me weird. It makes me uncomfortable.”

 

Floyd managed to calm himself down before he exploded by gritting out, “What kinda shit is he sayin’ to you?”

 

Zoe shrugged again, took a shaky breath. She looked like she was about ready to cry. “Darnell says boys at school are going to want to hurt me because I’m pretty, and if I wear certain things...I’ll invite it...” She looked down at the carpet. “Then he, um, he said I looked good enough to eat sometimes and if I...if I wasn’t careful...it wouldn't be boys who hurt me, but men. The last time I saw him and Mama, which was a couple days ago, he said, ‘Don’t come cryin’ to me when you get knocked up by some lucky f-fuck on the street, but please do come cryin’ to me if you...wanna...wanna...get a real man to...” She started to sob loudly, burying her face in her hands.

 

Floyd’s vision was suddenly obscured by some kind of red cloud. He didn’t realize he was hollering expletives until Harley shook him. “Floyd, you’re scaring her!” she yelled, an arm around Zoe’s hitching shoulders. “Hey, c’mon, kiddo, it’s okay. Men are dogs, every last one of ‘em. Cry it out.” She rubbed Zoe’s back softly. “It’s okay. You’re alright now.”

 

“Mother _ fucker _ ! He said that shit to you, to _ my daughter! _ ” Floyd screamed. “I’ll shoot his ass, I’ll kill him! Zoe, Zoe did he ever...did he ever...” He was surprised to feel tears prickling in his eyes. “Did he ever touch you?”

 

She shook her head rapidly. “Uh-uh. He never touched me, he just offered...” She looked down at the ground. 

 

Harley tightened her arm around his daughter. “Hey, kiddo. Darlin’. This is all real important, but why don’t you go check out your bedroom? I set it up for you -- last door on the right. There’s a TV in there. Your daddy and I’ll come get you in a little.” 

 

Zoe brightened, just a little bit. “Okay. I-- I can do that.” She ran off down the hall, her little backpack thumping against her too-skinny shoulders.

 

Floyd was shaking. Harley put her little hands on his shoulders, stood on her tippy toes, and said, her voice clear as bell, “Goin’ crazy in front of your daughter ain’t gonna help. Murder that pedo bastard if you gotta, but don’t scare that little girl.”

 

_ You’re one to talk about crazy, doll.  _

 

But she was right. And he was a father. Maybe not a good one, but that was his baby girl right there. He’d rather rip his own tongue out than scare her anymore. Harley hadn’t pulled back yet. He fought with himself not to grab her up all possessive-like. “I’m gonna kill him. You know I am.” To his great surprise, she wrapped her arms around him, tucked her head up under his chin. He put a hand on the small of her back. 

 

“I know, Floyd, I know you are.”

 

They stood there like that for a while. It felt...right. He knew he oughta check on Zoe, but, fuck. He just held her -- they swayed a little bit, Finally, he let the batty babe go, kinda just looked at her, and walked down the hall. Zoe was passed out under the covers in the guest room. Harley really did it up nice. The bed had purple sheets and pillowcases, the floor was freshly vacuumed, there were even a couple stuffed animals on the bed. The TV was playing some dumb kid show. Cartoon animals.

 

He closed the door all soft and went back to his room.

 

The next day, he let Zoe take the day off school. Had Harley promise she could watch his girl while he went out and took care of some shit. He found Zoe’s mama and Darnell pretty easily. They were hiding out in some trap house, all passed out on a piss-stained couch. Typical. He walked in, shot Darnell five times in the head then called the cops. Left a tip that Zoe’s mama was selling smack and her boyfriend was mysteriously full of lead. Probably worth checking out. 

 

He came back, took Zoe out to lunch. He got her registered in a new school in a pretty good neighborhood. 0-

 

Things went -- you know what? They went okay. Harley really started doing that little housewife thing, making dinner and cleaning house and shit. She started going on little errands, nothing big, just grabbing eggs at the bodega or picking up Floyd’s dry cleaning now and then. It was alright. 

 

One day, Zoe came home with a flyer. She kicked off her high tops by the door, padded down the carpeted hallway, and leaped into Floyd’s arms. “Daddy!” she giggled, wrapping her legs around his waist. He spun her around, messed up her hair a little. 

 

“How was school, beautiful?”

 

“It was good! We learned about colonialism in the Middle East and I got an A on my algebra test!” She squirmed out of his grip and bounced on her toes. “Also! Anna invited me to sleep over on Friday. Can I?”

 

“Do I gotta meet her mom? Are they PTA people?” He adopted his best white lady voice. “Zoe, your father kills people for a living -- I don’t think you’re a suitable friend for my daughter.”

 

Zoe giggled. “Daddy! Stop it. So can I?”

 

“Sure, little girl. What do you want for dinner? Harley said she’d make spaghetti, but I think an algebra A deserves a little more than that, huh?”

 

“Um. Actually, I...” Zoe reached into the pocket of her cute little overalls and pulled out a crumpled green flier. “There’s parent-teacher conferences next week. Um. I was wondering if you wanted to come. Harley could come too, I mean.” 

 

There was a kinda cold tingling at the base of his spine. “Baby...” He palmed the back of his neck. “You know I don’t really do that kinda stuff. I mean -- it ain’t... Harley isn’t even your mama, you know?”

 

Zoe looked like a popped balloon. “Right. I know, Daddy, I just...never mind.”

 

_ Shit.  _ Look, Floyd knew it was fucked, but he wasn’t a parent-teacher kinda guy.  He couldn’t be. But looking at her sad little face, all hunched shoulders, he wanted to be. He did. He put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “C’mon, Zo. Baby. We can order in if you want. Pizza Hut?”

 

Zoe shrugged.  “Okay. I’m gonna go to my room, if that’s alright, Daddy. I have homework.”

 

“Alright.” He sent her on her way with a chuck under the chin. Floyd sat down at the kitchen island. This fuckin’ penthouse. Some kinda gentrification nightmare. All modern and clean edges and shit like that. Stainless steel everything. A nice little prison in the sky for Harley, a nice little hideaway from the real world for Zoe. He felt trapped up here. Trapped in indecision and shit. Couldn’t even use his real address for a pizza. He had to have the fucking pizza guy deliver to a safehouse and then get one of his goons to airdrop it. That was no kinda life for a little girl, where she couldn’t even have a pizza delivered to her house. But where was Zoe supposed to go? Foster care? Where was Harley supposed to go? Back to the streets? To Arkham? Fuck! He slammed his fist down on the island.

 

Harley came in, waltzing to some tune in her own head. “Hiya, handsome,” she said. 

 

He grunted.

 

“Somethin’ wrong with the kid? She’s sulkin’.”

 

He sighed. “She wants us to go to her parent-teacher conferences.”

 

“Oh.” Harley hopped up on the island, kicking her feet. “Why don’t we?”

 

He leveled a gaze at her. “You’re jokin’. We’re -- Harl, we’re wanted criminals. I’m a fuckin’ contract killer. You’re -- you.”

 

She giggled. “We could get all dressed up! Disguises! I bet you’d clean up real nice in a suit and tie.” She walked her fingers up his chest and leaned forward like she was about ready to kiss him.

 

_ Fuck. _

 

She leaned back and giggled again. “We could pretend to be her parents! Floyd! It’ll be so fun!”

 

“Doll, you can’t exactly pass for Zoe’s mama.”

 

“Flo-o-o-oyd,” she whined, “please?”

 

And how could he say no to that?

 

So he found himself, _ stupid _ , sitting in a middle school classroom across from some over-eager white lady with too much eye shadow. 

 

“So nice to meet you, John!” Zoe’s teacher -- Ms. Channing? Ms. Cheney? Ms. Cherry Pie? -- gushed. “And you, Brianna!” God, these fake names were stupid. So was the fake mustache he was wearing. And the fact that they were sitting at little kid desks. And the stupid watercolor paintings all over the walls “And the fact that the walls are some kinda pale pink? Stupid. It was all stupid. 

 

“So, Zoe Johnson is your daughter?”

 

Floyd nodded. Fuck. Zoe’s fake last name was Johnson, okay, and his name was John Johnson. “Uh, yeah.”

 

Harley nodded all over-excited like a puppy. “Uh-huh, Mizz Chapman!” (Oh, so that was her name.) “Zoe’s ours! We’re real excited to meet you. She talks all about you at home.”

 

“Oh, does she now?” Mizz Chapman cooed, flattered. “Oh, how sweet. She’s a very sweet girl.” Floyd didn’t miss the look she was giving them, a “How did a pale-ass white girl like you and a brother like you make that little black girl? She ain’t mixed.” She smiled with all of her teeth. “Yes, she’s really a little darling.”

 

Floyd tried not to roll his eyes. His fucking face itched. “Yeah. So, uh, how’s she doin’? In school and all that?”

 

“Oh, just fantastic.” The teacher shuffled some papers. “Let’s see. Zoe is above average in English and math, does very well in our life science class too. She’s very curious about the world around her, you know. I think she mentioned something about being a biologist when she grows up. Now, she’s a bit quiet during class discussions, however--”

 

And yep, he was gone. But Harley, Harley was _ rapt _ . She leaned forward, head resting on her knuckles, a grin eating up her whole face. She asked a million questions about Zoe’s class engagement, whatever the fuck that meant, and her friends and interests. It was like every police interrogation he’d ever been in, but kinda cute. At some point, Mizz Chapman asked what they did for a living. He was so zoned out, he didn’t process Harley’s excited squeal, “I’m a stripper and Mr. Johnson here’s my pimp!”

 

Mizz Chapman didn’t seem overeager to have them in her classroom after that. For some reason.

 

When they got back to the apartment, Zoe hugged him hard around the middle and didn’t say nothing. She just smiled that sweet, sweet little smile.

 

Harley helped her with her math homework after dinner. They watched a movie together on the couch, some stupid teen romance. Zoe cuddled up on his left, Harl on his right.A fucking family. After he put Zo to bed, Harley looked a him kinda cockeyed.

 

“What?” he said.

 

There was this corner of the penthouse where the walls were all windows. All of Gotham was spread out below them, beautiful as anything. A million sparkling little lights hiding some grade-A badness. Harley’s face, all snowy-white, was lit up and glowing. Like, he could see the city lights reflecting in her eyes. She wasn’t wearing nothing special -- a pair of his old sweats and a white tank top -- but he was pretty sure she’d never looked so beautiful. His chest felt funny. And she was still looking at him funny too.

 

“Floyd?” she said, head cocked. 

 

“What’s up, dollface?” he said softly. 

 

She laid her palms flat on his chest, all sparkle-eyed and shimmering, and raised up on her tippy toes. She kissed him, then, soft as anything. 

 

“We got somethin’ good here,” she said softly. “Zoe -- and you -- and me.”

 

He nodded, not sure what to think, but just pressed his lips to hers once more. 


End file.
